Monday, May 7, 2012

A Few Things I Never Tell My Students (Plus a Few Things I Do)

When I was 10 I wrote an essay for school thanking my parents for giving me a violin and teaching me how to play. ”You have no idea how much that violin means to me,” or something to that effect. I remember the feeling of love that rose up inside of me when I wrote those words. Then there was the time I threw my violin on the floor out of frustration over practicing.

There’s a kind of listening that right now you don’t even know exists.

Sometimes I would really rather just hear about your day. Plus your big brown eyes are killing me and I can’t not let you sidetrack me.

If I could magically make you understand how worth it the work is, I would do it in a heartbeat. Except that you really have to just experience it.

Think I was easy to practice with when I was a little girl? Think again.

Thank you for not needing me to talk to you in a high, cutesy voice. I just can’t do it.

Someday I hope you’ll discover there’s more than one way to say the things you thought you could not say.